Chapter 172 No.172

The soldier wiped his sword clean; turning to glance at the riding coming up from behind him. Cantering past, the rider urged his stallion onwards, heading for the young girl still running away.

Amaia screamed as the colossal horse ran around her and blocked her path, tossing its head and whinnying. She edge back away from it, terrified of such a beast that towered over her.

She was grabbed from behind by one of the men, and held tightly. Amaia screamed again, and tried to struggle against the beefy muscular arm that held her. But her efforts were futile. She could barely move at all.

'Quick' came a voice. 'Get her on a horse and let's get out of here.'

'But what about Ulfrid?' said the man who held her.

'He's dead. Now let's hurry and get back to the king before anything else happens.'

Amaia was put in the saddle atop one of the horses. Immediately fearing tumbling to the ground far below her she held tightly into the horse's mane, tears of fear welling up in her eyes as she began to shake uncontrollably. The soldier who had held her climbed into the saddle behind, placing an arm around her so she had nowhere to go. Amaia felt frightened in the power of this man, this stranger. This soldier.

With his other hand the man held the reins of the black stallion, tapping his heels into the horse's flank. The horse obeyed his command, quickly increasing speed into a gallop. Water streamed down Amaia's cheeks as the wind stung her eyes, mixed with tears of fear and confusion. Amaia was gripped by a sudden sense of unreality, and for a moment, she didn't know where she was.

Amaia held on, and waited for what her fate might bring, all the while she thought of her mother, and wondered where she was and what had happened. She had kept running as her mother had told, and did not look back.

She had not seen her die.

A group of men, doubling in number those that had kidnapped Amaia, lay in wait some distance down the road.

'They're heading this way' one of the scouts said to their leader who was named Tristan. 'They'll be here in minutes.'

Tristan rubbed his palms together nervously, signalling behind him to indicate the other men to keep silent. The horses that had carried them stood further back, hidden from view from the road. They shifted, ears twitching and nickering to each other. The men were lying in wait upon the lip of the hill, a spot Tristan had chosen that overlooked the road. A fine place for an ambush.

f the road, seeing more of his men crouched low. Their dark green and brown mottled clothes they wore broke up their silhouettes and deemed them near enough invisible in the forest.

'Excellent' Tristan muttered to himself. He took a deep breath, speaking to the archer beside him.

'Now listen very carefully.'

The archer's eyes instantly glazed over.

'You are to aim for the rider who has her. Aim to kill him. But do not hit the girl. I repeat, do not hit her.'

'Understood your highness.'

'They should be here within seconds' Tristan went on; glancing down to the road in the direction the riders were expected to arrive from. 'Keep a sharp eye, and do not hit the girl.'

'Understood your highness' the archer repeated.

Tristan tensed suddenly, crouching low as he heard the sound of horses approaching.

'Here they come' he whispered to the archer beside him who crouched low as Tristan had done. 'Are you ready?' Tristan asked as the archer pulled an arrow from his quiver.

The archer nocked the arrow, drawing back the string with a muscular arm and perfect position.

'Be careful' Tristan reminded. 'And don't hit the girl.'

The riders were drawing closer, coming into view and travelling fast.

The archer narrowed his eyes, searching for the rider who had Amaia.

Spotted.

The riders approached the ambush, and ran past. The archer rose from his position swiftly, waiting a split second before releasing the arrow.

The finest archer in the kingdom did not often miss his target. The man fell dead from his horse, and for the first time, the girl he carried could be seen clearly.

Tristan's heart froze as he saw her, and for a moment words were lost to him as the riders below them began to panic and scatter in confusion and alarm. And then Tristan remembered himself. Rising and standing tall he lifted his sword, crying out the signal to attack.

A great swarm of men descended upon the unsuspecting riders and slaughtered them. Most were killed by the archers before swords clashed, and by the time it was over, Tristan had not lost a single man.

He panted heavily, brow beaded with sweat as he looking about him, realising it was all over.

'Good work men' he called. 'And good work Cyan.'

The archer who had shot the first man gave a nod mutely to Tristan.

Tristan held his breath again, growing evermore nervous as his sights rested upon the frightened girl, sitting upon the giant black stallion.

He wanted to rush up to her, and sweep her up in his arms, and tell her everything was alright. But he dared not scare her further.

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